Path To Restoration (Fighter's Den, #3)

Chapter 5 - Delilah

"One tall vanilla latte with an extra pump of vanilla and whipped cream, please." I tell the barista my order who taps away on the screen in front of her.

"Name?"

"Delilah."

"Like the song?"

I stifle a sigh. Why did my mother do this to me? "Yes, like the song."

"Your order will be ready over there." She points to where the straws and coffee sleeves are after accepting my payment and I shift myself.

While I wait for my drink, I flip through my notebook and go over the plot for my current story. I've finished writing it but there's a few changes my editor wants me to make that she claims will make it "undeniably publish-worthy." The deadline for my final draft is at the end of the week and then my editor will send my book out to every company she knows. A lot of them are already expecting to hear from us because of my editor's connections. I'm beyond grateful that she stumbled into the library I work at out of luck and that I felt comfortable enough with her to tell her I'm an aspiring author. When she whipped out her business card and informed me that she'd like to work with me, I almost passed out. I didn't think she was serious until Mom forced me to get over my nerves and call only for her to answer saying she was beyond anxious to read my work. Her and I mesh really well. We have the same taste in books and she's super supportive of my work but also blunt when she needs to be. It's a good match, that's for sure.

I grab my order once they call my name and find a tall table at the back with two empty stools. I set my things down and take my laptop out of my messenger bag, powering it up and plugging the charger in the charging port. When I've got my document open, I immediately get lost in my story and start typing away at the keyboard.

It's a romance story about a hometown girl who lives on a ranch and takes care of animals in her simple and quiet life when she's suddenly bombarded with an angry and cold businessman who shows up at her door in expensive clothing and his car stuck in a ditch. Couple that in with a rainstorm that lasts a week and makes it impossible for him to go back on his way, he spends the week at her house unwillingly. The woman is kind and welcoming—completely opposite his rude and distant—and isn't at all deterred by the city boy. He, on the other hand, struggles not to let the woman get on his every last nerve with her unfazed attitude. Her kindness bothers him and he becomes determined to make her crack and show her true colours because no one can be so good. Except...maybe he's wrong. And why is it that he's suddenly looking forward to seeing her every time he turns a corner in the house or wakes up in the morning?

I pause my typing and take a quick look around before I start writing the next scene. The man is about to stumble in on the woman in her room when he hears a shriek and finds her in nothing but a towel, her body sopping wet from when she ran out of the shower. I double-check to make sure there are no peeping Toms. I hate writing intimate moments with other people around but I need to get this done and my editor said my story didn't have enough "steamy scenes."

His heart leaps into his throat at the high-pitched sound of a woman's scream. It takes only a second for him to identify it as Madeline's scream but that's a second too late where he's concerned. Although he does not understand it, the thought of something happening to her makes him feel ill with distraught. He doesn't hesitate to leap off the couch and take off running toward her bedroom. Normally he'd knock but now was not the time for formalities. He turns the knob and finds the door — thank goodness — unlocked. Upon stepping inside, he searches the room frantically to look for her, yearning for the image of her safe and unharmed. However, the image that instead greets him is one he did not expect.

His lips part slightly in shock and he can feel his eyes flash as they travel over the miles of bare skin on display. He knew Madeline to be a beautiful woman but he did not realize the extent of her desirability. Not until now. With nothing but a small cloth sticking to her damp skin and barely covering what he finds himself yearning to be able to see, Madeline stands with her back against the wall and pointing a frantic finger at something across the room. He reluctantly pulls his eyes away from her and reminds himself of why he ended up here in the first place. What had made Madeline scream bloody murder?